Old Poison

by Joan Francis

  The river here flowed north to meet the Sarapiqui, but it was slow moving and the current was not too strong. The motorboat was out of the question but I thought I could get the rowboat across the river without losing too much ground to the north. Once on the other side, the water would mask my sounds.

  I untied the rowboat, pushed off, and rowed as silently as possible. Beaching the boat just down river from the swinging bridge, I found a good path running parallel to the shore. In most places there was enough shadow and cover to hide me should my watcher on the hill look in this direction. No longer needing stealth, I sat down and put on my hiking shoes, then followed the path south to the High Security Quonset hut. Positioning myself behind some foliage, I waited for James to show.

  * * * * *

  FORTY-THREE

  On the road to the south I heard footsteps and saw James, alone. He didn’t walk in front of the Quonset hut, where the night-light was, but turned at the other side and made his way around the back of the building, along the north wall, and right past my hiding spot. He peered around the front of the building, looked worriedly toward camp, then searched for a place to get out of sight. He headed directly toward me.

  I stood up. “Sorry, this bush is taken.”

  He flinched. “Jesus, Diana, you scared the shit out of me. Come on.” He moved to the door and punched in a code, inserted his security pass, opened the door, and motioned me in.

  He shut the door and flicked on the light. “I’ve searched those boxes by the front wall. Start with this bunch over here. We have until morning to find the Hyacinth Red research. With or without it we have to get out of here in the morning before Woods learns you’re AWOL.”

  “OK, enough games, James. You’re the plant manager. Do you really expect me to believe you have to sneak around like this to look in your own files?”

  “Do you really believe Woods would let me out of here alive if he knew I had the file?”

  I stared at him, not knowing what to believe.

  “You’re supposed to be smart, but you don’t get it yet, do you? This fuel that old man Duffy developed and called Hyacinth Red is now going to be used by Blue Morpho and is intended to totally replace petroleum-based fuel. Some people see it as a way of saving the world environment. Others see it as a means to absolute power. No more oil competitors, no troublesome problems with Middle East oil production, no more problems with any of the puny little countries of the world. I work for the good guys, the ones who want to use Hyacinth in a responsible way. Now, on the brink of introducing it to the world, we hear it might be a worse ecological disaster than we already face. A few people in my corporation would like to know the truth before it’s too late. Other people in the corporation and in the military don’t care.”

  “How could they not care? What good is absolute power if the Earth becomes as barren as Mars?”

  He shrugged. “Did they care about mass atomic weapons? Did they care about lead poisoning? Do they care about global warming?”

  “People tried to fight all of those things, too. Did it do them any good?”

  I wished I hadn’t said that. The look on his face was so close to defeat I knew I had hit too close to home. He turned away without answering and began searching through the nearest file box. I stood still for a moment, wondering if there was anything else I could say. Finding nothing brilliant, I looked around at the nearby file boxes. I opened the first one. “Oh, cripes. I could be looking right at it and not know it. I don’t know what this stuff means.”

  “Just look in the upper left corner for the department. Any files generated by the fuel research division, bring to me. If they say engine performance or lubricant or any other department, set them over by the door with the others.

  Out of the first four boxes, I found one for James and three for the door. The fifth box I opened was a surprise. “James, there’s a personnel file here.”

  “Just put it by the door.”

  I picked it up and headed for the door but something seemed very wrong. As I set it down on the growing stack I asked, “How many personnel files have you found in here?”

  “None. Ignore it. Someone just misfiled it–”

  “No, it can’t be just misfiled. The personnel records were in the can they locked me up in. They wouldn’t even be here yet.”

  I began looking through the box. James shook his head and went back to his own search. What I found was so fascinating that I took two file folders out. Sitting on the floor between the pile of file boxes and a pile of iron pipe that was stacked against the front wall, I rapidly scanned the contents.

  The door burst open and Woods strode in, pointing a nine millimeter at James, who was in plain sight in the middle of the room. He stopped, slightly in front and to the left of the pile of boxes that shielded me from view.

  “Hello, Jimbo. You been having fun in here playing with the files at night?” He laughed. “You think you’re so damn smart, and you are really so fucking dumb. Every time anyone slides a pass card through that security slot it registers a nice big red light in my office and gives me the user’s ID.”

  James stood. “What do you think you’re doing, Woods?”

  “Following orders. Keeping you occupied and out of trouble until it’s time to put you away.”

  With no warning, he adjusted his aim and prepared to fire. As soon as Woods’s hand tensed around the weapon, James dived behind a nearby container, but Woods followed his moving target and fired. I heard James yell. Woods started moving to the right, trying to see around the container and determine if he had killed James.

  “Oh, that hurt, Jimbo? I hope so, you interfering prick. The funny part is that what you want isn’t even here. We purged the whole Hyacinth safety research file.”

  He laughed again and moved farther to the right, which brought him almost in front of my pile of boxes.

  “It wouldn’t do you any good to find it anyway. The whole project is now out of civilian hands and locked down in a military special projects division where it belongs. Hyacinth Red will rule the whole fucking world and those sand rats in the Middle East can stick their oil right back down their little black holes.”

  He took two more steps to the right and was standing directly in front of me. If he turned around, I would be in plain view, but he was concentrating on James, trying to figure out how badly he was hit, where he was, and if he was armed.

  I eyed the pile of iron pipe. One of those would make a great weapon, but trying to pick one up without making noise would be like playing pickup sticks with wind chimes.

  Woods brought his left hand up to support his right wrist as he spotted his prey. I wrapped my hands around the pipe that was on top of the pile, but I could see that when I raised it another pipe would be freed and would clatter down the pile. I would have to be very fast.

  Woods’s body tensed as he took aim. In one fluid motion, I rose, swinging the pipe with all my weight and power. Distracted by the sound of the pipe, Woods started to turn toward the noise as he squeezed the trigger, pulling his shot and sending the bullet whizzing high above the target. The pipe connected with the back of his skull and his gun fired again, but the bullet went into the roof. Woods sprawled on the floor unconscious or dead, I wasn’t sure which.

  “Get his gun.”

  I grabbed the nine millimeter and searched Woods for other weapons, retrieving a knife from his sleeve and a small .22 from his boot. I stuffed the weapons, Woods’s radio, and the two personnel files I had been reading into my pack, then ran to James. He was on his feet, leaning against the container, trying to tie a large bandana around the bleeding wound in his thigh.

  “Not bleeding enough for a vein. Did it get the bone?”

  “No, muscle.”

  I finished the makeshift bandage. “Come on, lean on me. We have to get out of here before some of Woods’s playmates show up.”

  “No, I can hardly walk, much less run. You get out of here and don’t quit running until you get back
to California.”

  I stepped under his arm so he could use me as a crutch. “As you already pointed out, that didn’t do much good for Evelyn. Besides I’ve got us a ride.”

  * * * * *

  FORTY-FOUR

  As we hobbled down the road like a team in a three legged sack race, we listened anxiously for sounds of alarm from the camp, but all remained quiet. Leaving James beside the river, I ran to the spot where I had left the rowboat. Stumbling along the water’s edge, I towed the boat upstream to James and helped him into it. We pushed off, using both the oars and the river current to carry us across the river to where the motorboat waited.

  James managed to move to the motorboat without help while I tied the rowboat to the back and pushed our small flotilla out into the current. I was climbing into the boat when the woop, woop woop sound of the camp alarm blasted the quiet night. Soon lights lit the camp and guards could be heard relaying orders and reports.

  James and I used one oar each like paddles and punting poles, as needed, to make our way down the far side of the river. The search was still limited to camp and we were a good half mile downstream before we saw the first spotlights trained on the river in back of us.

  “Diana, they’ll see the boats are missing and send someone down the road to the bridge.”

  “We’re not going as far as the bridge.”

  He said nothing else for a while and we let ourselves drift for two or three miles without the engine.

  “James, untie the row boat. We can let it drift down to meet them at the bridge and give them a new puzzle.”

  James grimaced and said, “You better cut me loose too. I’ll never make it through the forest.”

  “Don’t have to. There’s a doctor over on the next tributary and if and if my hearing is accurate, we are about to the confluence of the two rivers.”

  He stared at me blankly. “How could you know that?”

  “Long story.” I started the outboard engine, turned on headlights, and powered us through the rushing water at the forks. Then cutting the lights, I headed upstream toward the Enviro-Medic Research station and what I hoped would be medical and transportation assistance.

  There was not a light on anywhere and the station was little more than a slightly darker shadow against the blackness of the forest. If it hadn’t been for the protrusion of a small dock on the river, we might have missed it. I tied up at the dock and climbed the steps to peer through the windows into the combination house and medical office. Unable to wait for my report, James had hobbled up beside me, causing his wound to start bleeding again.

  I knocked for the third time and got no response. I tried the door and both windows but found them all locked.

  “It doesn’t look deserted. There’s stuff inside, but the doc doesn’t seem to be home. Maybe we better break a window and get some disinfectant and decent bandages for your leg.”

  James nodded and sat down on the step as I picked up a club-sized piece of wood and prepared to smash the glass.

  “Please don’t break the glass. It is very expensive to replace out here.”

  Startled by the voice, we both turned toward the shadows at the edge of the clearing. Even without seeing him, I knew who was there. The soft mellifluous voice, with its slight Spanish accent and cultured English tones, could only belong to one person. The question was, would he be friend or foe?

  He walked into the clearing, and I could see that he was even wearing the same distinctive leather hat he had worn when he followed me around the environmental expo in Long Beach.

  “I am Guillermo Jesus Montegro y Monteblan. At your service. Sir, you seem to be in need of medical aid.”

  “Yes, I’m afraid so. I’m James Nolan, and I’ve had a bit of an accident. We heard there was a doctor here, but he doesn’t seem to be in. This is . . . ”

  “Dolores Gomez. Happy to meet you. Could you help us get in here for some disinfectant and bandages?”

  Gill pulled out a set of keys and opened the door. “Certainly, please come in. Unfortunately the doctor and her husband have returned to the United States, but they still have some supplies here. Our local people became quite dependent upon them for medical assistance. We miss them.”

  The only light in the place was a Coleman lantern. Gill lit and set on the table. While he collected first-aid materials, James untied the handkerchief and took off his pants. As Gill began to clean the wound, he asked, “Who shot you, Mr. Nolan?”

  “Me, I’m afraid. One of those stupid things, trying to clean my gun and the damn thing went off.”

  “Hmm, you must have very long arms. No powder burns. Why would you have a gun anyway?”

  “Self protection. Snakes, crocodiles, you know.”

  “Oh, of course.”

  I wasn’t sure where this nonsense interrogation was going, but our previous meeting had convinced me that Gill was a professional investigator of some sort. To keep him from notifying the authorities, we would probably have to tie him up or lay out our credentials and see where he stood. With one hand inside my pack in case I needed a gun, I asked a little question of my own.

  “Gill, I need to know one thing. Why did you and Ken and Judith Hoffman disappear so quickly from the environmental expo in Long Beach?”

  He stopped, frozen for a moment while he processed that one. Then he turned around and studied me, raising the lantern to direct the light to my face.

  “Well, well. Diana Hunter. Very good. I truly did not recognize you.”

  “Answer the question, please.”

  “Certainly.” He set the lantern back on the table and continued wrapping the wound. “Because we were all afraid, both for our own lives and the life of our friend Evelyn. We didn’t know then who had sent you. I stayed in California long enough to learn who you were, while Ken and Judith came back here.”

  “What happened to them?”

  “Oh, they are quite all right, but when they returned to the station and learned that Blue Morpho had moved into the lodge next door, they were terrified it was more than unfortunate coincidence. They were back in the United States before I had time to get down here. They won’t be coming back, I am afraid.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “I live here. I am retired to a small finca not far from here, and I still keep an eye on this place. Once in a while, I am able to give some small first aid to local people who were used to seeking medical assistance here. And why are you here, and how did this man really get wounded?”

  Before I decided on truth or lie, James asked, “Retired from what?”

  “I was an employee of my country’s government, in law enforcement.”

  “I’m afraid your fears for Evelyn were justified,” I said. “She was found in a dry wash in Arizona, murdered. Since my card was found on her, the FBI called me to identify the body.”

  Gill nodded. “A friend of mine in Interpol notified me. I assume your arrival here has something to do with her death, but I am still curious about Mr. Nolan and his wound.”

  James looked at Gill sharply and asked, “Did this friend of yours in Interpol have anything to do with a report sent to Blue Morpho regarding Woods and the local research facility?”

  There was silence while we all looked at each other and waited for Gill’s answer. Instead he countered with a question of his own. “Could you tell me, please, how you know about the report?”

  “I read it just before my boss at Blue Morpho sent me down here to look into it.”

  “Ah, so your assignment to the research facility was in response to our report. I see. I would have hoped that our report contained sufficient merit to warrant more than one man.”

  “It was a good report. If it hadn’t been, you wouldn’t even have gotten me. So you did write it?”

  “No, but I supplied information for it. I prevailed upon my old comrade at Interpol to see that a report got to the proper persons. We had hoped it would generate a full investigation.”

  “Yeah, well, the
‘proper persons’ decided the first step was to check the situation out, quietly.”

  “I see. So you are an intelligence officer for Morpho?”

  “No. I was a plant manager in Santa Barbara.”

  Gil’s look was frankly incredulous.

  James shrugged. “Yeah, that’s what I thought too. But you see, Woods knew everyone in investigations. Since I, at the tender age of nineteen, had worked in army intelligence, I’m what you got.”

  Gill studied him a moment, then nodded. “Perhaps you two should come to my house for something to eat and drink. It seems we have some common interests to discuss.”

  * * * * *

  FORTY-FIVE

  It rained all the way to San Jose, and I was glad Gill had convinced us to wait for daylight to travel the rutted back roads that challenged even his rugged four-wheel drive. Though long and uncomfortable, his route provided us with a safe and uneventful trip into the capital.

  Before we left the Enviro-Medic Research compound, we had untied the motorboat and allowed it to drift down the river, knowing it would come out at the same bridge the rowboat had. We hoped that would keep our pursuers beating the bushes and searching the river for us or our remains.

  Conversation en route was minimal for we had said most of it the night before at Gill’s house. As we’d shared information, we’d learned how the three of us happened to arrive at the same point in time and space. For each of us the catalyst had been, directly or indirectly, a frail, determined activist named Evelyn Lilac. She was the single pebble plopped into still waters, and we were swept along with the ripples.

  As we bumped along the road to the city, I had just one last thing I needed to know from James.

  “James, why can’t your boss at Blue Morpho just tell the world the truth about Hyacinth Red?”